


Best Served Cold

by On_Sonnshine



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Slurs, specifically the R slur, vaguely-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 23:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15472104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/On_Sonnshine/pseuds/On_Sonnshine
Summary: Deceit comes to realize that perhaps those with insomnia have the right idea.





	Best Served Cold

Silence reigned over the mindscape, only interrupted by the noise of the AC.  
  
It would be interrupted as well by the soft creaking of the stairs- the kind only caused by pressure, that is- but Remy had long known how to avoid the ever-so-slightly weaker parts of the steps.  
  
Armed with that knowledge, he easily slipped up into the hallway, moving intently towards the completely black door at the end of the hall, gold knob, all topped off with a snake decal that seems to glimmer in the low light.  
  
Remy’s hand landed on the knob and he twisted slowly, cautious- it wasn’t locked. _Ha._ Of course. Too easy.  
  
He easily slips into the room, shutting the door behind himself and locking it with a soft ‘ _click_ ’.  
  
There’s more light here- a soft glow that emanates from the strings of fairy lights across the headboard of Deceit’s bed- as well as hanging from the two opposing walls. The digital clock on the side-table reads a bright red 4:13.  
  
Remy slowly takes in the room, scanning the floor to make sure there’s nothing to trip on. Nothing. Though, in the corner, a snake is curled up on the desk, seemingly asleep. That’s a slight kink in the plan, but Remy has a few ideas for making sure the reptile doesn’t wake.  
  
He grins to himself as he slinks across the room, stopping at the side of the bed, his eyes raking down his conquests utterly relaxed form. _Good._  
  
Deceit is deep asleep, stretched out on his back, wearing nothing but a sweater and snake-patterned boxers. Remy chuckles under his breath, trailing one hand along Deceit’s thigh, his other hand coming to cup his own half-hard cock through his jeans.  
  
Deceit twitches in his sleep, lips quirking into a slight smile, and Remy huffs another chuckle. ‘Right. You’re ticklish.’  
  
Remy looks up to the fairy lights briefly as he settles a knee onto the bed. _Huh. Stars._  
  
Remy turns his gaze down to Deceit, cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking at the edge of his lips.  
  
‘How cute.’ Remy muses aloud, eagerly licking his lips.  
  
Then he’s shifting, sliding down the bed, spreading Deceit’s legs and easily settling between them in one fluid motion.  
  
Remy briefly rakes his eyes over Deceit’s form once more, and with a quick snap of his fingers the Dark Side’s clothes are gone.  
  
Remy smirked, ignoring the way Deceit shifted slightly.  
  
 _He looks good with some meat on his bones,_ Remy muses to himself as he reaches to unzip his jeans.  
  
-  
  
Virgil frowns, pushing open Deceit’s door. ‘Dee?’  
  
He slowly steps into the room, frown deepening slightly as he looks to the bed. It’s empty, the blankets on the floor, sheets mussed and only one of the pillows on the bed itself. Scout sits abandoned amidst the blankets, and Virgil absently picks him up, smoothing down his fur before setting him back on the bed.  
  
He finally looks over to the bathroom, where Lionel is curled up in a ball, staring at the knob. Strange- the python normally curls up in Deceit’s bed while said Side is gone from the room.  
  
The sound of the shower is loud behind the bathroom door- just as it was nearly an hour ago. With that thought, Virgil drifts over, shifting around Lionel and gently rapping his knuckles against the wood of the door.  
  
‘Dee? Are you alright?’ He only raises his voice as much as he has to, hand hesitantly falling to the doorknob.  
  
No response.  
  
Virgil calls again, and once more, there’s no response. He frowns, anxiety steadily rising as he twists the knob. Locked.  
  
‘Dee? Unlock the door?’ _No response._  
  
Virgil hates to enter without permission, but this isn’t normal- the bed, Lionel, and the fact that the shower’s been going for an hour. Virgil lived with Deceit since the other Side was created, he knows Deceit doesn’t take hour-long showers- as opposed to Roman.  
  
Virgil doesn’t debate any longer, snapping his fingers, and it only takes a moment before he hears the lock click. He pushes open the door, wincing slightly when he’s met with a thick cloud of steam. Another snap of his fingers, and it’s gone, allowing him his God-given right of clear eyesight once more.  
  
At the cleared air, he steps into the room, eyes scanning the area before falling to the bathtub.  
  
Deceit is curled into a tight ball, arms around his legs, holding them close to his chest, face buried into his knees. He’s shaking horribly, skin an irritated red- Virgil assumes from the water. (Well, that, and scrubbing his skin raw, but.)  
  
Virgil’s eyes widen briefly, and he freezes for a moment before jumping into action, like a rational human or something.  
  
He shuts the door behind himself- making sure Lionel can’t come in and get in the way. The anxious Side is kneeling by the tub within a second, leaning over to quickly turn off the water, not noting or caring that the water splashes onto the arm of his hoodie.  
  
Deceit’s head jolts up at the change, and he looks at Virgil with wide, scared eyes. It’s a look Virgil hasn’t seen on him in a long time, and one he hasn’t missed in the slightest, evidence by the way panic coils in his stomach, chills cascading down his spine.  
  
‘Deceit, Dee, sunbeam, it’s me, it’s me, what- come on, come on.’ Virgil’s rambling that little bit as he slips out of his hoodie, draping it over Deceit’s shoulders and guiding the younger Side to his feet with little difficulty. Deceit is quick to cling to him then, hiding his face in Virgil’s neck the second he can.  
  
Deceit weeps inaudibly against his skin, only noticeable by his hitching breath and little gasps- it occurs to Virgil briefly that the other Side’s shaking wasn’t only fear, and somehow, it makes it that much worse.  
  
Virgil snaps his fingers for the last time, drying Deceit off and clothing him in the same motion. Deceit pays no mind, allowing Virgil to sink to the floor with him, the cool tile a relief against his skin- despite the fact that it’s not actually against his skin.  
  
Virgil’s hand strokes through his hair, the other rubbing his back while the older Side murmurs endearments and reassurances, tone soft; a welcome change after the pounding shower and Deceit’s own sobs.  
  
Deceit doesn’t feel calm by the time his tears dwindle into weak sniffles and hiccups. He doesn’t feel reassured, or like everything’s okay, or going to be okay for that matter. But he does feel safe- he always feels safe with Virgil.  
  
‘What happened, treasure?’ Virgil rocks Deceit the smallest bit, hand still smoothing through the other’s hair, concern lacing his voice.  
  
Deceit shivers at the question, the hair on the back of his neck rising.  
  
 _Hands, he’d woken up to hands travelling his body, legs forced apart and a blunt, potent discomfort-_  
  
He curls further into Virgil, shaking hands grasping onto the anxious Side’s shirt.  
  
 _The stench of cheap booze and cigarette smoke, invading his lungs and leaving him coughing, alerting **Him** that he was awake-_  
  
‘I- I-’ Deceit gasps for air, phantoms of those scents invading his noise before he turns his face into Virgil’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of the other Side that clings to his shirt.  
  
Virgil doesn’t question again for the moment, instead opting to rock him, hushing him, and Deceit takes in a trembling breath. He doesn’t have to answer; he knows that. That doesn’t mean he won’t, though.  
  
‘ _H- **He** , he, he c-came into mm-my r-room- c-c-couldn’t- didn’t- d-didn’t wake u-up until- t-til- til he w-wasss a-already- already- I-I- tr-tried to ffffight- h-he t-tied my hh-handsss-_’ Deceit screws his eyes shut, swallowing thickly over the lump in his throat, ‘ _L-left at- at s-s-sssssix._ ’  
  
Virgil’s gone still now, near tense against Deceit. He’s just misinterpreting, it’s not- _no, that **didn’t**_ happen, _no, it **didn’t** , it was just his mind jumping to the worst case scenario, nothing **more, nothing more.**_  
  
‘Dee, i’m sorry but...what do you mean?’ Virgil doesn’t want to ask, and the words seem thick on his tongue.  
  
 _When he finally left all Deceit could do was curl up into a ball and weep, shaking horribly, skin sticky and release leaking out of him, staining the sheets, the scent of cigarettes and cheap whiskey still tainting the room._  
  
Deceit swallows thickly, nails digging harder into the fabric of Virgil’s shirt.  
  
‘ _H- **he**...he t-t...touched m-me,_ ’ Deceit’s stomach turns, ‘ _A-and...and he..._ ’  
  
He fear if he continues he’ll throw up- not that there’s anything left in his stomach, as he’d done the exact same thing multiple times when he’d finally fled the bed, finding the lingering scent too much, nearly going into hysterics.  
  
Deceit doesn’t have to finish the sentence- Virgil connects the dots. That being said, no single part of him wants to believe what he’s hearing, but he knows when Deceit’s lying- he’s not now. On that note, why would he be?  
  
‘Dee, _who?_ ’ Virgil’s trying his best to sound calm, soothing, but Deceit can hear the fury in the older Side’s voice, and he winces slightly.  
  
‘ _R-R-R-R-_ ’ Deceit can’t manage to force the name past his lips- it chokes him, leaves him shaking that much more, but Virgil easily connects the dots once again.  
  
‘ _Remy?_ ’ Virgil’s tone is strained, and Deceit can only manage a nod. It’s enough.  
  
Virgil twitches against him, and Deceit briefly fears he’s going to leave right then in a rage, or call bullshit- but all he does is nod, pressing a kiss to Deceit’s head.  
  
‘Alright. I’ll take care of it, Dee, I promise, okay? I’m gonna keep you safe.’ Deceit lets out a breath he wasn’t really aware he’d been holding. He knows once Virgil leaves he’s not going to feel as safe as he does now, but he just allows himself to accept the contact and try to ignore the overwhelming feeling that his body is no longer his own.  
  
-  
  
Virgil knows he should tell the others what happened outside of sternly dragging Roman aside and ordering him to stay with Deceit while Virgil ‘takes care of something’. Roman confusedly agrees, even more confused by the added, ‘I _mean it, **do not**_ leave him alone’, but agreeing nonetheless.  
  
He knows.  
  
But as it is, he’s storming down the hall to Remy’s room, dagger clutched in his hand, blood rushing in his ears. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do- all he knows is he can’t kill the fucker. Sadly.  
  
He knocks harshly on the door with his free hand, steadying himself in the moment it takes for a response. He slides his dagger into his pocket.  
  
10 seconds pass- Virgil knows, he’s counting to try and keep his breath-, and then the door swings open.  
  
‘ _Gurl_ , I _swear_ you _better_ ha-’ Remy is cut off when arm wraps around his neck, a hand covering his mouth as Virgil backs the figment into his room, kicking the door shut.  
  
He lets go of Remy long enough to reach back and lock it, and Remy gasps for breath, glaring.at Virgil.  
  
‘What the _hell_ Virgil?!’ Remy practically snarls, straightening up quickly and smoothing out his shirt, wiping at his mouth exaggeratedly, scrabbling for his usual prideful aura. He’s not dressed in his normal tacky get-up- Virgil woke him up, then. Not that said Dark Side cared in the slightest.  
  
Virgil thought he’d have a taste to talk, to tell Remy exactly what he’s going to do lest he face the consequences, but just looking at the figment, acting as though he’s done nothing wrong, leaves Virgil seeing red.  
  
He slides his dagger out of his pocket before he can think about it, lifting it and pointing it right at Remy’s chest, eyes dark and movements sharp. Remy loses his confidence quite fast- nothing short of what Virgil expected, to be honest- going completely still, fighting a flinch, his eyes lowering to the weapon before returning to Virgil’s cold gaze.  
  
‘ _Agaaaiinnn,_ ’ There’s the vaguest tinge of fear to his tone, and it’s almost satisfying. Almost. But it’s drowned by the arrogance still very much present, the whiny quality to the other’s voice.  
  
‘What’s your damage, _retard?_ ’ Remy snaps at him, but Virgil recognizes the terror in his eyes- good thing those stupid fucking shades were left lying on the nightstand.  
  
‘I can’t believe you,’ Virgil’s voice is quieter than he’d meant, but he quickly raises it, ‘I- I mean, I knew you were a dirtbag, we _all_ knew _that_ , but to, to- to do _**that**_ to Dee?’ Virgil practically spits the last part, hands shaking slightly with barely restrained fury.  
  
Remy pauses at the words, processing them, and then slowly, he chuckles.  
  
‘Oh- _honey._ ’ Remy laughs, and Virgil physically _feels_ his blood boil, ‘ _That’s_ what this is about? _Sweetie,_ he’s _deceit_ , he _lies_ , that’s what he _does_. He knows he wanted it.’  
  
Virgil growls, biting his lip so hard he feels blood sting his tongue.  
  
He shifts, jerking the dagger forward and _dragging_ , hard enough to cut straight through the fabric of Remy’s shirt, piercing his skin and leaving a red line in its wake, little droplets of blood sliding down the trail.  
  
Remy stiffens, hissing at the pain, simultaneously jolting back and moving forward to grab the dagger. But Virgil is faster- not to mention he anticipated it.  
  
The anxious Side quickly moves forward, grabbing Remy’s shoulder in a vice grip and yanking him forward, pressing him up against the line of Virgil’s body, plunging the blade into the figment without a second thought, just below his navel.  
  
Remy is perfectly still as he cries out, hands grasping at the handle. Virgil smirks grimly- Remy is too wracked with pain to actually be able to pull at the dagger with any force.  
  
Virgil stays that way for a long 5 seconds before pulling back slowly, dragging down purposefully for the ridges to catch, relishing in Remy’s twitches and little pained squeaks and yelps.  
  
Virgil steps back, briefly glancing down to where blood stains his shirt- Deceit still has his hoodie.  
  
Remy is clutching at the wound, blood seeping past his fingers, and it’s such a satisfying sight Virgil is sure he’ll remember it to the day he dies. But he’s not done quite yet.  
  
He extends his arm, curving the dagger harshly over Remy’s shoulder, easily slicing through the figments shirt and into his skin. When Virgil pulls it back, he hums at the nasty-looking cut left behind, blood soaking into the white of Remy’s shirt.  
  
Virgil watches it for a moment, burning the sight into his mind just like the first, before he meets Remy’s slightly glazed, though fearful, eyes, watching impassively as he sinks to his knees.  
  
‘ _You..._ ’ The word drips with poison and Remy winces, ‘Are going to leave. I couldn’t give any less of a fuck where you go, but you don’t belong _here, or_ with the other Dark Sides. If I find out you went there, i’ll do far, _**far**_ worse than i’ve just done- _this? This_ was me being _extremely_ merciful.’  
  
Virgil briefly pauses, ‘Not that you deserve that.’  
  
He impatiently waits for a reply, and when he doesn’t get one, he digs the dagger at the bleeding cut on Remy’s shoulder. Remy flinches harshly, nodding, not speaking- for once.  
  
Virgil nods.  
  
‘Good. The second I step out of this room, I want to see you, _and_ this door gone.’ Virgil waits for another nod, and when he gets it, he turns on his heel, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.  
  
It takes a solid 15 seconds, and Virgil waits with bated breath, but after a moment, the door sinks level with the wall, melting away until there’s nothing left but a solid expanse of wall.  
  
Virgil holds a breath for a long moment before sighing, looking down at the red-stained dagger in his hand, and then his equally stained shirt. Now, the only evidence Remy had even been there.  
  
Well, that, and...  
  
Virgil fights not to curl his lip, snapping the dagger away as he turns and strides down the hall, intent to explain _exactly_ what their no-longer-resident dirtbag had done.  
  
Virgil pauses at the stairs, hand landing on the banister.  
  
 _After_ checking on Deceit.  
  
Yeah.


End file.
